Pedalos.

It's a surreal place, Greece is.

A photo from last summer just reminded me of that again. It was a sultry summer day, early morning and the menu had a boat ride, maybe fishing. Went by the captain's usual post on the beach to borrow a pedalo to his boat, the early birds already busy on their break-strokes. Had our morning coffee but the proprietor was nowhere to be seen. Ended up turning away a few potential customers of his since all was locked up before realizing nothing was actually locked up. An hour overdue and somehow bemused we nicked the pedalo and it was a beautiful day.

This picture was hanging over his office. A legendary militant of the WWII resistance and tragic figure of the subsequent civil war. A true revolutionary!

Follow Me.

Island.

The Wild West.

My Bulgarian Grandad.

This grandad is not my grandad, I don't have any any more. But he is the closest thing I could ever have. His nickname is "the Bulgarian" and how he acquired it is a story of old, told with the syntax and references of different times.
He goes to the village coffee shop to meet his friends and siblings twice a day; but has only one coffee. He tells great stories and laughs with his heart. Frequently he accidentally calls people on his mobile phone. Every Saturday he goes to the cemetery to visit his wife. He likes young people and especially girls. He loves his granddaughters and his best friend must be his grandson-in-law. He doesn't mind being teased and speaks German. He tries to keep low and stay out of trouble. And he takes pride in his garden. He takes care of the plants and will pick his artichokes, peppers and beans daily. He has all sorts of crops. Sometimes he even takes me up there to show me.

Come to think of it, I think he is my grandad after all. And I'm happy for it.

Silvaland.

And while at it, I had the chance to visit a new, special place on the island. It's called Silvaland and it's an equestrian centre, focusing on therapeutic horseback riding. With brand new stables and amenities built on a wonderful estate right in the middle of the greenest hillsides, lovely people, a world famous horse-whisperer and adorable horses it is a place to cherish. Well worth visiting and I guess I'll do just that again soon.
Visit http://www.silvaland.gr/ and put in your schedule if you're around this part of the globe.

Glamour!

I have been spending some more time in Greece during the past year, Corfu in particular. No need to go into details here, let's just say that I'm getting slowly acclimatized to a more stable lifestyle and also starting to get glamorous!

It's Summertime!

What's that you say? It isn't yet, we're only in May? Well, summer is always in ourselves, in our hearts and minds. Look for it and you'll find that warm, bright corner.
Summer itself is just a season, it comes and goes like everything else. Nothing is around for long. And to be frank I like my winters too, all seasons for that matter.
But summertime is not a season only, it's that sweet feeling of contentment and joyful days. Legs up and peaceful moments. It's everywhere.

Mmmmmm....

I don't know, do you know?

Hair Raising.

What's it gonna be? A dark, dark night will descend or a fresh, crisp morning will dawn? Huh? Neither maybe? A foggy compromise I hope not.

Election Day!

Today it's not just an ordinary day in Greece. It's election day! In the midst of a financial storm and social upheaval it's time for a reckoning. The suitcases are packed and at the ready. Lets see where the ticket is for.

Strictly No Vegeterians.

Easter in Greece is not the place to be if you're a veggie with a sensitive disposition and sense of smell. You could feast like a king on the extras and all, you wont starve. Have fun, get drunk and dance. But try ignoring the roasting lamb on the spit. Poor beast.

Kite Surfing And Snorkelling.

Road Kill.

Driving in Greece is always an experience.
It's not that the drivers are just exceptionally bad; they are, but I've seen worse. It's not even the shot and painted over with love scribbles road signs; at least they exist. Loads of them. And the road culture is appalling, full of testosterone and mindlessness.

What breaks my heart is the blindness. The blindness to the army of statuettes, murals, miniature churches and commemorating stands, some eerily sparkling new and some forgotten, bent and rusty that fill the sides of all roads. Each one stands for a death and each one tells a story. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. And somehow they are a mirage, ghosts that most people pass by without ever noticing.

*UPDATE: This little story has been expanded photographically and is still in growth. Since there are so many of these roadside murals it will keep getting renewed and refined for quite a while I believe. You can visit the current version here.

Today It's Raining.

Today it's raining in London. For days now the forecast said showers and cold. Everything looks grey and gloomy, the colours have gone. Out my window I only see empty streets, blocks of flats that are meant to be brown, other shut windows and a blinking skyscraper far on the left. Wish it was sunny and warm and lively.

I was in such a place only last week. The sun's out every day there and now it's so hot you can barely bring yourself to putting on clothes. I can imagine people going out, swimming in the sea, running around like a swarming anthill. The light is hot but so clear, so bright you can see for miles. Yet things feel even gloomier there. Precarious and overcast. Wish it was fresher and more optimistic.

I don't know what the forecast says for the next few weeks. Here I'll wear my jacket if it stays on like this. What will they do back in the hellhole they call Greece? Wish it wasn't raining, wish it wasn't gloomy.

Where To?

A Little Perspective.

During my most recent visit to Athens, while wandering around aimlessly as usual, I bumped into the most amazing shop window I ever saw. And the inside was even better. I asked for permission to take some photos and I ended up staying more than an hour. The lady that owns the place was a revelation, a living time capsule full of grace, humour, kindness and character.

Her name is Mrs. Khetee Floru, a professional typist and qualified accountant, who has worked for five decades in this little shop. She was typing (under absolute secrecy) scripts for the cinema and theatre and was part of the golden era in Greek art of the 50s, 60s and 70s. She is now retired and the shop is for sale. It might be old, dusty and chaotic but to be frank, were I to take over, I wouldn't change a thing. It's truthful and honest, a whole life well lived.